Max Payne: The Second Fall of Max Payne
by leithalweapon
Summary: Max thought that he was better. After the events in Brazil, he thought his priorities were in order. But now, after a shocking revelation, Max's perception of life and reality has become even less clear. What is real? What is fake? Max thought he had finally picked himself up, but now he is simply falling again...
1. Relapse

__**_The disclaimer. So this is the part where "leithalweapon" reiterates the fact that he does not own me - Max Payne, or anything regarding the rights to my story? Or maybe it's the part where he jokes about how he wishes he did own the rights, correct? That's just FAN-tastic. I need a drink... _**

* * *

_A cold, dry bed. A dull, shoddy room. A window that provides a glimpse to the cold, dry streets of a dull, shoddy city. This is a place that is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I feel like I've been here before, and yet I feel like I'm in a entirely different world. I look around, and quickly I feel a stinging headache. The type of headache expected after a long night of flying three sheets to the wind with nothing but a bottle of whiskey and a bad case of manic dehydration. I've definitely been there before, but I can't help but wonder why this is such a new experience..._

_ Where was I last night? I thought I was sober. I thought that after that dysfunctional series of screw ups that was my time with the Brancos I decided to cut the middleman out of my life. Well, the middlemen. Every time I tried to show at least a slight amount of common sense, Alcohol and Painkillers quickly snuffed out any chances of that ever occurring. So, once I got my priorities in order (if that even has happened at all), I decided it was time for my "Sai fora da minha vida, Cabrao!" moment,_ _and I quit cold turkey. That would have been much more difficult, had I not been spending my initial rehabilitation period in a god damn inferno of bullets that were sent with love from the UFE_. _But now, as I lay here in this foreign place with no idea where the fuck I am, I have to ask myself if I am getting a stern check of reality in the form of a cold, hard relapse. _

"Max...? Max! Oh, my god... you're awake! How..."

_ Now I'm really starting to wonder where the hell I was last night. Maybe in the loving embrace of a bottle of rum, or the friendly company of a bottle of vodka... because this is the type of reaction received after waking up from a god damn coma. Maybe this is what I deserve for this little relapse of mine, maybe I had this coming..._

"Max! God dammit... you shouldn't even be alive..."

_ Maybe it's the fact that I still feel like I'm under the ever powerful influence of not knowing what the hell is going on or where the hell I even am, or maybe I've finally lost my god damn mind. But that voice... _

"You son of a bitch... do you realize how badly you've fucked up this time?"

_ Now I know that this is a bad dream. No, make that a nightmare. I've had nightmares before where I've seen this bastard, but this is different. The last time I saw Jimmy Bravura in a dream, he was trying to kill me with a god damn loaded weapon. Now he's trying to kill me with guilt by telling me how much of a fuck up I am. I'm not gonna let this dream get any more screwed up than it already is._

"Alright... I get it. This is a bad dream... right. Real funny. Time to wake up!"

_ But I'm not waking up._

"... Max... shit Max... you really are out of it Max... god dammit..."

_ I don't like how that sounds. I try to reach out and grab Bravura to see if he really is there, or if he's just yet another figment of my unstable imagination. I find I don't have the strength. This isn't good._

"Damn... damn... Alright Bravura... since I'm not waking up in my own god damn bed in my own god damn house, you're gonna tell me just what exactly is going on, and you're gonna do it right now!"

_ I sound like a caged animal that's all bark and no bite. Even as I speak, I find my voice slowly fading. It's pathetic and embarrassing... and after the answer that I already know I'm going to receive, I doubt I'm going to feel much better._

"Max... you don't even remember before... they destroyed your apartment Max... god dammit..."

_ That's a nice way of saying that they blew my apartment up into motherfucking smithereens. The Cleaners were never really a subtle bunch. But I do remember that happening - a god damn decade ago. And I don't even remember before... what does that mean? This is easily the worst hangover that I've ever had._

"Cut the bullshit Bravura. Tell me what happened."

_ I don't even know if this is a good idea. I'm probably going to wake up in a cold sweat with a bad case of insomnia that won't go away until I get this god damn dream out of my head._

"Max... do you remember Vladimir Lem? Do you remember confronting him at Alfred Woden's Mansion?"

_ I wish I didn't._

"Yeah... I killed Lem. I killed Lem, but Woden died, and so did..."

_ I stop myself from saying her name. This dream is getting too real. I need to stop this before -_

"Max. That never happened. I understand you're having trouble remembering things, but this is ridiculous. Max, there's no easy way to say this... Lem shot you. The bullet went clean through your skull. You've been in a coma for the past year and a half."

_ That is complete bullshit_. _But I guess it would explain the headache._ _This is making even less sense than -_

"Lem escaped afterwards. Max... he took over the Inner Circle. Obviously, you realize what this means..."

_ Yes, I actually do. It means I am staying the hell away from any form of liquor or drug that has been or will ever be made. This dream is fucked up. But if that were to have happened, Lem would have become the most powerful criminal in the history of New York City... even if the so called "secrecy" was no longer there._

"Max, Lem has built a criminal empire... he's... untouchable now that he controls the Inner Circle. The NYPD has been powerless to try to stop him..."

_ Why can't I have a normal dream, where I actually don't wake up afterwards wanting to down a bottle of anything followed by a stiff chaser of bullet to the skull?_

"But... the Brancos... Passos_... _Giovanna... the UFE..."

"Max... you're not making sense. Maybe you should get some more rest, I'll fill you in more later -"

_ Not fucking likely._

"No! I mean... Bravura, I've got so many questions, and dammit I need answers. If Lem is alive, why hasn't he tried to kill me yet?"

_ Stupid question._

"Max... he thinks you are dead! Hell, _I _thought you were dead! He shot you in the head Max... clean through the skull... you're lucky to be alive... hell you're lucky you're not braindead!"

_ Maybe I should get some rest to avoid asking another dumbass question like that one. But I can't... I need answers..._

"... What about the Cleaners?"

"They ditched the whole 'cleaner' gig - they now are pretty much just Lem's muscle. Their street name is the Impalers - and they have a reputation as being violent, ruthless, and... well... you know..."

_ Is that supposed to be cute? Vlad's Impalers? They couldn't think of a better name than that? Hardly a thought that is appropriate for a situation like this one, but leave it to me to find a way to make a situation more ridiculous than it has to be. I have a lot more to ask, but there's one thing that I have to know..._

"... And... uh... when I went to Woden's mansion... was I... alone?"

_ My stuttering made me sound like a drunken idiot. I guess that makes sense, because that's what I was. Or am. Or soon will be again after this ordeal._

"When you went to Woden's mansion... you weren't alone. Apparently, you were -"

_ That was all the clarification that I needed. But now, an even more important question - one that threatens to make me believe that either I'm hallucinating this all, or I really am experiencing this..._

"Is she alive, Bravura? God dammit, _is she alive_?"

"... Max... from what little information we have... yes, she is still alive..."

_** ... Mona.**_

* * *

_****_So that's Chapter 1 of my first "fanfiction" done. Was it any good? Let me know what you thought!


	2. Dazed Confusion

_Everything is still a blur. A day has passed, and I'm still here in this bed, starting blankly at the ceiling of a hospital that I thought I'd have moved on from. This is the same hospital I wasted away in after I made one of the worst decisions in my life. And that is saying something - considering how many god damn idiotic choices that I've made. When I decided to shoot Winterson, and let Mona escape, I made a promise that I knew I couldn't keep. I wrote a check that I knew I couldn't cash. I made that damn decision to protect Mona - out of sheer lunacy, or love... hell is there even a difference? I knew I wasn't going to be able to save her. I just knew that one of us was going to end up burying the other, far before their time - or maybe at exactly the right time, depending on your perception of fate. But... I just can't believe that this is the truth. Everything I've done in my life after the fight at Woden's mansion seemed too real. Far too real to be just a dream. I turn my gaze outside, looking to the barren streets of the city that I thought I had moved on from. Is it really New York City I'm staring at? Is it really only just a year or so after I was... well... I was shot? The thought - just thinking that is enough to cause an unpleasant feeling in my stomach. Not too different from the feeling when you're half past intoxicated and about to commence a hour long session of "purging your inner demons". Or vomiting, if you're the less poetic type. _

_ My mind has been wandering for far too long now. I'm trying to avoid the one lingering thought that I can't shake. __**Mona is alive**_. _Here I was, thinking that I saved the day, only to have my "Damsel in Distress" die in my arms. Turns out, I very well could have been the one to "die" in her arms. But what exactly am I going to do now? If I accept this as reality, where will I go? My apartment is gone_, _the NYPD is probably going to find some way to throw me in prison for the rest of my life, and Lem will certainly do everything in his power to send me to hell for good if he finds out that I'm still alive. I need to think about this. I need time. I need -_

"Oh shit... no... Max you have to get up. You have to get up now, and you have to go!"

_ Bravura's blunt and apprehensive voice is the last thing I wanted to hear right about now. What the hell has gotten him so riled up?_

"The Impalers, Max! They're here! ... Dammit... Max you've got to get out of here!"

_ I stand corrected. __That__ was the last thing that I wanted to hear_. _How the fucking hell did they find out I was here this quickly? A fucking day? Is Lem really that powerful now, that he has sources that can find out things like this at this fucking quickly? Of course, there is the other point - if I really have been here for over a year, then I guess it wasn't so fast after all. But still... this is fucking bullshit. This whole situation is bullshit, but I have no time to do my usual complaining or sarcastic routine. I get out of the bed only to find I can't even support my own weight. I crash down to the floor with a loud, abrupt thud. Bravura has the decency to offer to help me, but I've been through much fucking worse - I can pick myself up off the god damn floor. _

"Dammit Max! Hurry up, you've got to - oh shit, Max, too late - hide!"

_Before I can react, Bravura promptly shoves me into the closet at the back of the room. I hit the wall with a nice bang, and immediately I want to kick down the door and punch Bravura in his god damn smug face. But after hearing the door on the other side of the room open, I quickly realize that would be a big mistake._

"Where the fuck is he, cop?"

_Sounds like a real tough guy. I can tell already that he's the type who speaks as deeply as possible and flexes like a tool to try to compensate for the fact that he's actually a giant wuss. _

"He's gone. He left about ten minutes ago... I tried to stop him, but I couldn't."

_Lying through his fucking teeth. And actually doing a convincing job - not bad at all. Of course, the dipshit he's dealing with and his lackeys would probably be too stupid to believe otherwise anyways._

"I don't believe you, cop!"

_Oh good! He doesn't believe you, Bravura! Give him his fucking cookie! Good job, asswipe, you fucking believe in something. Congratulations! I wish that I was in better shape, because I would fucking kick down this door and beat the ever living shit out of this pathertic excuse for a man._

"It doesn't matter if you believe me, Costa, he's not here."

_Wait, Bravura knows this fucker? Great._

"Shit... This ain't over, cop! Let's fucking go, guys. He can't be far!"

_With that, the band of dipshits makes their long awaited exit. I can't believe that worked. But this is just the beginning. Lem knows I'm alive now, and clearly he has his men looking for me. This is bad. Understatement, yes. With that, Bravura opens the closet door, and on his face I can see a looked of mixed amazement and relief._

"Jesus, Max. I can't believe the cocksucker bought that!"

_Before I can react, the door on the other side of the room suddenly opens once again, only this time it's been kicked - to reveal four gun_-_toting gangbangers dressed in grey sweater vests and tattered jeans. I assume that this is the same band of dipshits that we thought had left. Without warning, they open fire on us. Instinctively, I reach for Bravura's belt, praying he has his pistol. He does. I draw his pistol, and reflexively, I pull the trigger. The four bastards dropped quicker than a drunk who took one too many shots of tequila. Four shots, all to the head- it's good that if anything, I still have the ability to end other people's lives. I just wish that I had the ability to fix my own._

"Holy shit, Bravura. I thought you got rid of those fuckers!"

_No answer._

"Bravura.. You alright?"

_Of course he isn't. I've been here before. At this hospital, I've seen Bravura get shot before my eyes. I already know however that this time is different, though. I only now just notice all the blood. On my gown, my face, and on the wall behind me. I was so caught up in the moment, I didn't even notice the blood... Bravura's blood. He had fallen during the fight, But I was too caught up to notice. Now, as he lays slumped on me, I see that he was shot multiple times - in the back a few times, and the back of his head twice. Bravura just died, just like that. Gone was the previous reality I had - keeping contact with Bravura after my resignation from the NYPD until his death from complications due to a heart attack. Not the best end, but much better than this one. _

"You might not have been the best person, Bravura, but you didn't deserve this."

_My words are pointless. He's dead. He can't hear me. And yet I feel obligated to speak, to say that he deserved a better fate. Just like I feel I do. I don't think I deserve to be in this state. In this state of confusion, not knowing if this is real or not. I'm no saint, but I think I at least deserve the fucking common courtesy of knowing what is real and what isn't. It's all pointless now though. I can't sit here and complain like this any longer. These fucking goons could have more friends on the way now, who knows how many of these fucks there are? Not me, and I'm not in the mood to find out. I grab one of the thug's pistols and take the ammo from their pockets. They won't be needing those, not where they are going at least. Of course, judging by my luck, I probably won't be too far behind. I get up, and walk to the door. After checking the hallways to see that they are devoid of any people at all, I make my way for the nearest exit. At this point, as I make my way down the hall, I'm too pissed off to notice how terrible my physical conditioning is. Too pissed off to care. If anything, it's convenient that I'm here at Memorial Hospital again. I've been here so many times that I know the layout like the back of my hand. Well, that might not be the best way to describe it now, because judging by how little I know about my true reality, the back of my fucking hand could be entirely different from what I think it is. I turn to my right and head down another overly drawn out corridor, looking for the nearest staircase. I find it, and after kicking down the door, I begin to descend. My pace slows as I hear a man's voice. I can't quite make out what he is saying, but it sounds like it is along the lines of "He's coming this way" or maybe "Time to get fucking shot in the face guys". Well, alright - the second one was ridiculous but the way I feel right now, pissed at the world with a gun in my hand, these fuckers better hope that's all I do to them; save them the suffering I feel I should give them. As I approach the door at the end of the stairway, I see through the narrow window that there is in fact a few dumbass Impalers waiting for me on the other side. I could bide my time and think of a strategy to take them on, but I'm just not in the fucking mood._

"Oh shit! It's him! Shoot him!"

_I hear the thug scream as I kick down the door as hard as I possibly can. For a moment, all of my troubles, my confusion, my befuddlement - it all goes away as I do one of the two things I know how to do so well. Murdering people. Do I really need to say what the other thing is? Here's a hint - it involves a certain type of drink that makes you feel really shitty if you don't drink enough of it, and even shittier if you do. Anyways, the thug who I should refer to as Cpt. Obvious - the one who told his buddies to shoot me, because really, what the fuck else were they going to do? Give me a fucking angry stare? Insult my current shitty state? - The thug who told his buddies to shoot me was the first to taste lead. One bullet right between the eyes. As I turned my aim to the next poor bastard on his left, I feel the ever familiar sense of my perceptions slowing. The world as I know it slows to a pace that is painfully lethargic - time crawls to a plodding rate. I shoot this poor bastard in the throat, he clutches it and falls on this back. The next guy is trying to take cover behind a stretcher, and is not doing a very good job. I shoot his exposed leg, and watch as he falls over, screaming in pain, only to be snuffed out by my next shot - a well placed bullet to the forehead. The last guy, who by now is much closer to me than I had anticipated, for some reason decided that he was going to try to fight me hand to hand. He has a baseball bat - why the fuck does he have a baseball bat? He swings, but I am able to dodge by ducking as low as I can, and rolling behind him. As I stand up, he turns around, and I point my gun to his pathetic fucking face._

"How did you find out I was alive this quickly?"

_ Might as well ask._

"You fuckin' stupid Payne? We knew it was you all along, we was just havin' troubles with the NYPD lettin' us in to see you's is all."

_That's bullshit. He's lying to me, trying to seem like he knows what's going on. He clearly doesn't. He's just another hired gun, fighting for a cause he doesn't understand. Like me - or at least what I thought was me, when I went to Brazil to work for the Brancos. There's no point in asking him anything else, He won't give me a straight answer because he doesn't have one._

"Well isn't that just fan-fucking-tastic? Too bad your 'knowledge' can't stop a fucking bullet!"

_I pull the trigger. His head pops like a wet melon, after hitting the floor from a high fall. Poor bastard, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. As I approach the exit, I take a moment to think about my next move. I realize that what I need to do is simple, and yet it's the most complicated thing I will ever attempt in the history of my pathetic existence. __**I need to find Mona. And I need to do it now. **_


	3. Indecision

_So what? You're expecting me to tell you leithalweapon still doesn't own me - Max Payne, or anything relating to my story? Fine. I will. Disclaimer away. Do I get liquor for this?_

* * *

_I reach for the handle of the exit door, but I find myself hesitating. Hesitation - a feeling that I have become oh so familiar with. I hesitated when faced with the choice to kill Winterson. I hesitated when I found Rodrigo's lifeless body in his office - was it indecision? Or instinct? Or maybe I'm just too damn stupid to think rationally enough to made a good choice immediately. I chose to shoot Winterson - that had to be indecision. I chose to pick up Rodrigo's busted picture frame for whatever fucking reason, and I just so happened to find a live bomb, which I was barely able to escape from - that had to be instinct. So why the fuck am I standing here like a jackass looking at the hospital exit when I absolutely have to get out A.S.A.P. ? Why am I being so indecisive? I look around. The four dead Impalers at least are keeping me company with their presence... but where is everybody else? There's no doctors, no visitors, no patients... One could assume they got the fuck out when the bullets started flying, but even then, there would have been screams - I would have seen them running away, and hell some poor fuckers probably would have gotten caught in the crossfire. I never coped well with the thought of my actions resulting in collateral damage. I wish that I could prevent it - but I'm just another guy with a gun who's good for nothing other than killing. My bullets don't discriminate, and they certainly can't tell if you're worthy of receiving them or not_. _And my track record of getting innocent people killed is definitely an indication of that. The Brancos, Bravura, my fa - my... family. Whether directly or not, people around me, near me, close to me - they have a low life expectancy. So where are the others who are supposed to be here? Hell, even the cops would normally be here by now..._

_ My thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the sounds of vehicles screeching into the front area outside of the hospital. At first, I thought that they were cop cars, but as I look out the window, I see that its far fucking worse. Four vans - loaded with armed and angry Impalers. Well isn't this just a fantastic turn of events? Fuck, it's like they were waiting for this to happen - like they were prepared for this. Maybe the poor fucker who's brains I spilled like a tequila slammer shot was telling the truth. Maybe they did already know I was here, maybe it was just the NYPD protection that kept me away. I doubt it... but... it has to be more than that. Bravura was on a first name basis with one of those cocksuckers - this doesn't add up. None of this fucking shit adds up. One minute I'm in Brazil, starting my "new, happy life", and now I'm fucking back here in New York, back at my "old, shitty life". I need to do two things right now. First, I need to find the leader of this group of Impalers, and make sure I don't fuck him up too badly. I need to ask him a few questions. Hopefully, this time I'll get someone who actually knows a thing or two other than how to be a complete idiot, unlike the last fuck who I tried speaking to. And second, I need to murder the fucking shit out of all of these other cocksucking bastards._ _I backtrack to the main desk in the lobby, picking up any clips I can from the dead bodies that I so graciously am responsible for. And now, as I crouch down behind the main desk, I wait. I hear the doors open, and the fuckers all run in. I imagine them running in single file, probably in the same stupid uniforms._ _It's like they fucking practiced this beforehand - 'Okay guys - lets go over it again. We all run in to the hospital, and then remember the most important part - we let Payne shoot us in the fucking skull!'_

"Payne! You motherfucker, we know you're here!"

_ No fucking shit dumbass. If the dead guys are any indication, then yes, you're right. I am here._

"There's nowhere to hide Max - the NYPD ain't coming to save you!"

_Wow. Two for two on the 'fucking obvious_ly, _dipshit!' scale. Time to give this fucker what he deserves._

"Well nobody's going to save you from _**this!**_"

_I jump up onto the desk, and with two pistols in hand, I start doing my best impersonation of a beat up bastard with nothing to lose who doesn't give a shit anymore._ _Oh... right. I keep forgetting. Anyways, I jump up onto the desk, and what I see makes me immediately regret my decision. There's at least 20 Impalers, all of whom are armed with rifles, shotguns, and the like - there's even a fucker with a god damn RPG. This is not good. _

"Oh shit - shoot hi-"

_Before the poor bastard has a chance to finish, he is met with a stiff dosage of getting shot in the fucking face. At this point, I no longer am trying to aim at anything in particular. I pretty much am just shooting for the hell of it. Maybe it's reflexes, or instinct like I mentioned before - but the Impalers are dropping like flies. By now, I've killed at least fifteen of them, and only now are they actually shooting back. I better get moving, unless I want to end up like Captain Obvious_ _Two for Two, who's brains are now slowly draining out of the giant hole I left in his skull. The sight of blood is something I never really liked. But, it's one of those things you just get used to. After seeing so much of it, and being responsible for the spilling of so much of it, it just becomes something to be accepted. Just like the old saying - 'Don't cry over spilt milk'. Well, don't cry over spilt blood either. Spilt alcohol is another story._

"Die, Payne!"

_The sound of the bastard's voice snaps me out of my inopportune daydreaming. The bullet through my left arm that follows has a similar effect._

"God dammit! Fucking Impaler bastard!"

_Now I'm really angry. I leap forward, raising my pistols in front of me, and I take aim on the bastard who's responsible for shooting me. I start pulling the trigger like it's the last thing I'll ever do. The fucker gets hit at least seven times before he goes_ _down. He got what he deserved. As I hit the ground the pain really starts to sink in. I've been wearing nothing but this patient's gown, so the bullet went clean through my bare arm. I wish I had a creative way to put this, but I don't. It hurts like a fucking bitch. _

"He's hit! Now's our chance!"

_ Not so fucking fast. I still have one good arm, and I'll be damned if I don't use it to shoot you bastards dead. Or if I don't use it to take a stiff drink. I know I said I'd never drink again, but damn - am I thirsty._

"Time to die, Pa -"

_By now, I kind of expected them not to try to taunt me with words. It seems every time one of these assholes opens their mouth, they get a response in the form of a bullet to the brain. But, like the dumbasses they are, they keep trying to belittle me with insults, tell me my life is over, or whatever it is that they absolutely must say - and I keep putting them down. This idiot is no different - he says it's time for me to die, and I respond by sending him on a one way street to hell_. _His three friends soon follow him on that same street, as bullets to their skulls soon follow. I reload my pistol, with a degree of difficulty made by my injured arm, only to find I am surrounded by nothing but dead Impalers and the silence after the fight. The most awkward silence I've ever heard is the silence heard in the moments after murdering a bunch of people. You just stand there, looking around, looking at the carnage you've just caused, thinking to yourself about how much of a fucking psychopath you must be in order to do something so violent and insane. And now, I realize that my psychopathy has led me to a terrible mistake. I was supposed to leave the leader alive so I could ask him about all this bullshit._

"Son of a _**bitch!**_"

_Frantically, I begin checking for survivors. It's not looking good. Most of these guys had the luxury of a quick, painless death in the form of a bullet to the brain. I don't normally shoot to leave my target alive. At least, not since my time in the NYPD. Hell... even then I ... Well... anyways, I finally find one poor bastard who survived. Turns out, it was the fucker who shot me in the arm, to which I responded with seven bullets of my own. What he lacks in intelligence, he make up for in toughness, I'll give him that._

"Go... God... d... damm... it..."

_I slump down beside the poor fuck. He's already in bad enough shape, the last thing he probably needs is a drawn out conversation with the bastard responsible for his death. Unfortunately for him, that's what he's about to get. _

"Alright, asshole. I've got some questions for you, and you're going to answer them straight up."

_Simple enough for even him to understand right?_

"I... I... can't... be... believe... I... actually... h...hit... you... Payne."

_Me neither._

"Every dog has his day, bud."

"Yeah... an..and... every... dog... ha.. has... to die."

_He's right. Everybody dies eventually. Today is his day. But I know he's trying to say that I'm no immortal. He's trying to say that I'm soon to follow him. He's got a good point, I'll concede. _

"You're right. But back to the point. First question - where the fuck is everyone?"

"We... we got... we got everyone cleared out... once we knew... once we knew it was you for sure. We... we might cont... control the... NYPD... but... even they have secrets... you... were their... biggest secret of all...

_What._

"What? You... you..."

"Payne... th... the Inner Circle... r.. runs everthing in N... New York now. L... Lem is... a ... mastermind. He... He knew Bravura was hi... hiding something... but... he didn't know... it was you... he thought... you were dead... he shot you... h... h... himself."

_I should have known. It makes sense. I was just too stupid to make the damn connections. I guessed that this was the case, but I just couldn't believe it for whatever fucking reason. Like I said, I just don't have the ability to think rationally because I'm such an idiot. Of course the Inner Circle runs the NYPD now. Hell, was there ever a time when they didn't? But now that Lem is in charge, the NYPD has even less power to stop organized crime. Bravura must have pulled so many strings, broken so many rules, just to keep me safe. Mother fucker... I owe him a debt I can never repay..._

"Where is Lem now?"

_Straight to the point._

"Pa... Payne... yo.. you can't... stop him... he's in...in... invincible now."

_Wrong._

"No, he's not. It's like you said - Every dog has to die."

"I... I..."

_He doesn't know. He dies before he can say it, but I know that's what he was going to say. I believe him. Lem is most likely a ghost now - hiding in safe houses, rarely - if ever, being seen. Everyone knows he's there, everyone has to deal with him, but no one ever meets him. That's how the Inner Circle is - or at least how I assume it is._ _This poor fucker actually seemed competent - he knew some things, and was able to share them even though he took seven bullets_._ I have a new found respect for this poor bastard, even though the fucker shot me. I need to do something about this wound. Conveniently, I'm in a hospital._ _Go figure._

_I go in the nearest room down a hallway to the right of the main lobby. I see plenty of things I can use to treat the wound. And, luckily, I know what to do. I've been here before in this situation - shot in my "second favorite drinking arm", as I remember calling it. I smile as I remember then_ - _Passos and I at the stadium, getting caught up in bullshit that we didn't quite prepare for well enough. My smile fades when I realize not only the fuckery that transpired on that day, but also when I recall the fact that the memory never actually happened. The bullet went right through, so I don't need to worry about removal. Great. I start cleaning the wound with some medical quality iodine/betadine solution_. _The next part involves alcohol_. _Sadly, not the kind that's for drinking._ _I flood the wound with the alcohol, followed by soap and water._

"God... Fucking... _**Shit!**_"

_I can't help but scream as the stinging pain hits me like a truck. I continue to clean the wound until I am satisfied with the job, and I then apply a large dressing of gauze around the wound. I got pretty lucky this time. I don't think any permanent damage will be caused, and I still have decent ability to move my arm. I leave the room, satisfied with my work, and I decide to look for something to wear other than this damn patient's gown. I search a few rooms, and eventually I find something I wish I didn't. In a closet of a nearby room, I see a black leather jacket with a white undershirt, dress pants, and a strange brown tie that I never really liked in the first place. I never thought a sheer coincidence like this would ever happen. Some asshole stole my clothes from me while I was halfway between dead and wishing I was dead_, _but here they are now. Who would have thought that looking at my old outfit would trigger such a strange feeling of nostalgia? Is this how a former bride feels when she sees her old dress? Well... that's probably not the best analogy, considering how I couldn't give a shit about how I look. All that matters is that I can kill. I don't even need to be dressed to look like it. _

_ I put on my old clothes, and finally I head back to the exit. I once again find myself staring at the door, with the same feeling of indecision I had before. But now, I change what previously had been done. I push the door open, finally admitting to myself that it's time for me to face where I am. I am in New York City. I am home. I open the door to one of the vans that the Impalers used to get here. The key is in the ignition - that's a relief. Now, it's time for me to find her. Mona... I need to find Mona... she can help me. She'll know where Lem is... she can fix this all... and I'll be damned if I don't want to see her again. Mona... where are you? I guess that there is only one logical place to look at this time - __**the ruins of the Address Unknown Funhouse.**_

_**It's not much to go on. But right now, it's the only idea I've got.**_

* * *

Time for an author's note! I've really been enjoying writing this story, and I appreciate the couple of reviews I've received so far! If you have something to say, a critique to give, or an opinion on how the story is progressing, please- leave a review. I really enjoy reading what you have to say.


	4. Delusion

_It's been a long time since I've taken a drive in New York City. The classic sights of road rage infused assholes, ridiculous traffic, homeless people on the sidewalk, all of the fun stuff. Slowly, I am reminded of just how much I fucking hate this place. Forget about the crime, the people, the weather, or any of that bullshit. This place just has an... aura. An aura of depression, of missed opportunity, and of regret. Or, maybe that's just me, observing my own fucking aura. When I looked in the mirror at the hospital, I was too busy dealing with being fucking shot to notice how I looked otherwise. But now as I look in the rear view mirror, I see a strange, unfamiliar sight. Here I am, looking younger, stupider, and shittier than ever. Just as I remember looking before. It really is a decade in the past... or, well, the present. Or not the future - God fucking shit my head hurts just trying to rationalize this. I try to take my mind off of my confusion, sending my gaze back to the streets. I notice on the side of the road a couple of bums fighting over a bottle of rum. I'm tempted to pull over and join the fight. God damn I could go for a drink right now, but I quickly discard that stupid thought. I check in my rear view mi- no fucking way. This can't be fucking happening. I am being followed by three more fucking Impaler vans. At first, I wonder if they realize that it is me driving a hijacked van. Maybe, by fluke, I'll be able to avoid another bullshit situation. My optimistic thought is quickly dashed when I see an Impaler reaching out of the passenger window of the lead van with a AK47. Oh fuck. Before I know it, the bullets start flying. The side view mirror on the passenger side of the van is the first casualty, exploding into at least a hundred fragments as it gets hit. Next, the bullet holes start quickly appearing on the back of the van's doors. Fuck, if I don't do something quick, the bullet wound on my arm might have some company. I quickly veer to the right, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic, and people who are on the sidewalk, who are only now just realizing that a fucking drive-by car chase shooting is happening. I realize very rapidly how much of a mistake this was, as it becomes evident that I am going down a dead end street. What the fuck am I going to do now? Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh __**fuck it all**__. It's time for another patented 'Max Payne dumbass idea', and this one might be the worst one I've ever had. I grip the handbrake with a tight grasp, and as I begin to apply it, I turn the steering wheel to the right as fast and as far as I can. With my still injured arm, I raise my pistol out of the conveniently busted side window. Everything starts to slow down... as the van spins uncontrollably and unpredictably, I wait until the van has turned around completely. When this happens, I start shooting at the Impalers with all that I have. I see sparks, and blood. Both of which are a good sign. The vans behind me all start veering out of control, soon to crash into whatever is unfortunate enough to be in the way. But now... oh __**fuck.**__ I feel the van slowly start to lean to its side, and before I know it, it starts rolling. Debris and shrapnel start flying, sparks are going everywhere, and everything starts to fade away to black. Is this death...?_

I wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. The sun, shining through my window, the horizon as beautiful as ever. Quickly, I sit up, and I see my room. My room... in Brazil... no... no fucking way.

"_No... this is __**bullshit!**__"_

This can't be fucking happening. This can't be fucking happening. I run to the door, kick it down, and I run outside. The beach... the water... no... it was all a dream... no...

"_Max..."_

Wait... what? That voice...

"_Max..."_

I turn around, and I see what confirms my fears. Michelle... and... she's holding... Rose... in her arms. This... what... wh... wha... what is going on? Am I dead? Am I in heaven? Well, the chances of the second one are slim to none, I know for a fact I'm bound for hell easy. But if that's the case, why are Michelle and Rose here...

"_Max... we love you... we love you so much Max..."_

God... Michelle...

"_Michelle... Rose... I love you so much too... I miss you... so much..."_

I've never been one to shed tears, but I feel them flowing... all of my rage, my pent up emotion... it just flows out...

"_Max... we love you so much... that's why you can't die now Max. Not like this... wake up Max."_

Wait... what?

"_Wake up Max..."_

No... now that I'm here... with you ... I can't leave you again...

"_**Wake up, Max."**_

..."Michelle... Rose... I want to stay with you..."

_My words serve as a quiet indication as to what has happened. I am not dead. Whether that was a dream, or some spiritual bullshit that I can't explain, I am not dead. I look around to see just how fucking close I came to death. The van is flipped over onto its side - the passenger side. And, as I turn my gaze to the left, I see what looks like a plank from a park bench, sticking through what's left of the windshield and the side wall of the van behind the driver's door._

"How the fuck..."

_I won't begin to try to visualize what exactly could have transpired when the crash happened. I don't know how long I've been here, but it couldn't have been too long, judging by the fact that there's no ambulances, police cars, or surviving Impalers trying to finish me off. __**Oh shit.**__ The Impalers. I have to get out of this van quick - maybe there could be survivors. And, judging by how many of them have been miraculously following me lately, I'm sure there's probably plenty more on the way. Before I try to get out, I check my body to see if I've received any more_ _injuries. I fucking can't believe it. Other than a fierce headache worse than any hangover I've ever had, and the general feeling of realization that I was actually stupid enough to do what I just did, I seem to be in reasonable shape. Considering that the plank inches from my head could have easily been stuck through my skull if it was a little bit closer, I'd say that's pretty fucking incredible. I force open the door with a bit of difficulty, and climb out as fast as possible. I immediately notice the three Impaler vans - one of which has crashed into a power pole, one of which is flipped completely over, and the other... how in the name of fuck...? Alright. It's flipped onto it's back. I mean the back part, where the rear doors are. Yeah... it's fucking flipped over and balanced on its rear doors, facing straight up to the sky. What in the name of God happened? After a quick check, it's safe to assume I am the only survivor of this little "fender bender_" _- the blood all over the road gives a pretty safe idea about the status of the Impalers. A few people on the side of the road stand staring at me with a look of fear, confusion, and even concern. They seem afraid to do anything - no surprise really. They most likely just witnessed the most insane thing they will ever witness in their lives. _

"Hey... if anything... remember to look both ways before you cross the road... fuck..."

_Well I thought it was funny. Considering the reaction I get (or lack thereof), I guess it wasn't. I turn around, and I start walking. If I remember correctly, I somehow have managed to end up only a few blocks away from where the Address Unknown Funhouse's remains would be. I start moving as fast as I can. Somewhere between a brisk walk and a laughable stumble, I keep as quick a pace as I can. Before I know it, I reach the site of the funhouse_. _I'm not even slightly surprised when I see that it's been fenced off, and simply left as it was. No attempt to clean the debris, no attempt to make it look any bit reasonable, nothing. There's still a few tattered rooms left, many missing walls and filled with burned remains of furniture and props. This was a fucking crap shoot all along. I knew it. I walk around, looking rapidly back and forth_. _There was no fucking chance that Mona would be here. No fucking chance. Why did I think there would be?_

"Mother **FUCK!**"

_I kick a piece of debris as hard as I can. Why? I don't know. I'm angry. I'm confused. I just saw my deceased wife and child in a fucking dream. I almost died. I found out the last decade of my life, or so I thought, never actually happened. And now, the one person who I absolutely must find is nowhere to be found. What am I going to do now? Where will I go? I can't -_

"Wait... what?"

_Are you fucking kidding me. Underneath the spot where the debris was that I kicked, I only now just notice that there is a trap door, which was convincingly hidden until my little fit of rage. Another fucking bullshit coincidence? What's next - I win the lottery, World Peace is realized, and I actually fix my broken life once and for all spontaneously? This is fucking getting ridiculous. I reach down, and pull on the door. It's locked, of course. Why am I not surprised? I do the only thing a dumbass like me knows how to do in a situation like this. I step back, raise my pistol, and start shooting that fucking trap door like it was shooting back. After about ten shots, I try to open it again, and wow - it opens. I look down, and see a ladder which leads into darkness. Great. Looks like I'm climbing down. This is definitely yet another terrible idea from Yours Truly, but really at this time, I don't have any other bright ideas. I start climbing down. _

_**This is going to end poorly... I can just tell.**_


	5. Off Chance

_ How many times does a man have to take a bullet in the head before he dies for good? As __I climb down the ladder at an ever slow pace, enveloped in the darkness that increases as I descend, I think about this question for a while. It's dawned on me now that I've been (near) fatally shot in the head twice by the same fucking cocksucker - my former friend - Vladimir Lem. How do I not have brain damage? Hell, scratch that. __**How the fuck am I alive? **__Maybe I have some fucking guardian angel looking out for me after all. Or maybe I'm just too pissed off to accept death. As I descend further down, a smirk spreads across my face at that thought, but it quickly disappears when I think about how much longer it's going to take to reach the bottom of this ladder. For all I know, I could be heading right into a trap. And yet, I continue, like the idiot I've proven myself to be. Suddenly, I feel the cold ground under my feet as I take one final step down. Finally! I turn around, and take a quick look at my surroundings. There is a dim light in the distance - it is appearing from underneath what looks like a closed door. I don't like the looks of this. I don't like this at all. I grip my pistol tightly as I slowly approach the door. As I sidle against the adjacent wall, I put my ear against the door to see if I can hear anything. Nothing. Now, the interesting part. Should I open the door slowly and quietly, or should I kick the door open like the dumbass I normally am_?

_The door breaks with a particularly loud bang as I kick it with a vigor I was not expecting. I raise my weapon, and make entry. As I look around, I see very quickly that I am somewhere I definitely am not supposed to be. _

"What... is this place?"

_Surveillance camera footage. Photos - many of which are of me. Forms, paperwork, and all the information required in order to have a fucking manhunt. As I look further, I realize that I am in an Impaler Surveillance Center - made easy to realize because of the completely unobvious sign on the wall that says "Impaler Surveillance Center". How fucking stupid do you have to be? Seriously? I read some of the papers that are scattered on the desk in front of me_. _All of this intel points to me being at the Memorial Hospital, and how a planned attack was to take place __**on this day**__. Well, I guess I picked a good day to wake up. And, as it turns out, all of the intel credits the NYPD as being the only reason that I haven't been haplessly murdered yet. Bravura really was protecting me after all... poor bastard died for me too. I really do owe him a lot. As I continue to search through the papers I notice - wait. This is... this file has a picture of Mona on it. I can't believe it. This is actually turning out to not be a crap shoot. I open the file, and I begin to read its contents. Physical description, past activities, yeah yeah I get it. Where does it say her last known location? Anywhere? I read all the way down to the bottom, only to find what I feared the most. In bolded print, the file says "__**Last known location - Parts Unknown"**__. _

"_God... Fucking... __**DAMMIT!**__"_

_ I throw the file onto the ground, angrily scattering its contents across the floor. This was my one chance. This was my one fucking chance. What the __**fuck **__am I going to do now?_

"Having bit of trouble?"

_Who the fuck!? What? When... when did they get here? I turn around sharply, raising my weapon, and aiming it at the person's head._

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I should ask you same thing - but judging by the fact your face is all over my wall - I guess I don't have to."

_The man standing in front of me is young, and fairly average in appearance. He has short brown hair, square rimmed glasses, and pale white skin. He has a Russian accent that is particularly thick. The only thing that isn't average about him is a strange scar that extends from his forehead, down beside his nose on the right side, and all the way down to his neck._

"My name is Uchenyy - for you, American, I think word is... scholarly? Savant? Forgive me, I am not sure. I am person who is responsible for finding you, Max. I am one who does all the research for Impalers, the one who does all the information gathering."

_Really? You do the research? Apparently, its also your job to state the fucking obvious too, dipshit. I don't know if he can tell, but I'm not in a particularly kind mood right now. And after hearing the fact that he is an Impaler, I'm starting to think this fucker may need a bullet reserved for him._

"Well isn't that just great! Looks like you're going to be helping me then, Savant. You see, your little dumbass group has been giving me a hell of a lot of trouble lately, and I'm getting pretty tired of it. Long story short, I need to find someone."

"Who?"

"Mona Sax."

_He gives me a confused look. Then, he begins laughing like a deranged lunatic. This guy is crazy._

"You are serious! You are serious! Bozhe moy!"

_He continues to laugh like a dumbass. I decide to turn up the pressure on this chump. I press my pistol against his forehead, resting my finger on the trigger._

"Something funny, Savant? Because I can't recall telling any fucking jokes -"

"What you say_ is_ joke! Sax! MONA Sax! Payne, she is GONE. Hell, she most likely dead in some ditch somewhere! The day where you get shot, she and Lem fought. Apparently, fight didn't go well for Sax. She disappeared after, not to be heard from again!"

_That's not good enough._

"So you mean to tell me that you, the "intelligence guy", have absolutely no idea where Mona is? Wow. You certainly suck at your job, don't you? I should kill you right now, dickhead!"

_I ready myself to fire. He doesn't appreciate this gesture._

"Ah... hey... easy Payne. I might not be able to tell you about where she could be... but I think I know someone who can..."

_You think?_

"This better not be a crap shoot. Who is it?"

"The Devil."

"What?"

"Because chances are she's rotting in Hell! Ha! H - "

_His skull explodes like a firecracker. I don't appreciate his sense of humour, and I doubt he appreciates mine, because seeing his brains splatter onto the floor pleases me in a strange, deranged way._ _What now? I look around the room, and I see a small refrigerator near the back wall. I only now notice how hungry, thirsty, and exhausted I am. I stumble over to it, and open it. I notice some bottles of water, a salad, and some assorted fruits and vegetables_. _Apparently Savant was a god damn hippie or some shit. I devour the entire contents of the refrigerator, and drink a bottle of water quickly. However, as I drink, I notice a bottle of soda in the back of the fridge. This is confusing. I didn't think hippies or vegetarians or whatever the shit this loser was would drink soda. I then realize as I look to my right that there is a cupboard beside the fridge. I open it. _

"Jesus..."

_There it is. My holy grail. My saving grace. An unopened bottle of spiced rum, placed there by the gods to make my day a bit better - and to get me wasted. Apparently Savant was a rum and soda kind of guy. That's alright, I guess. Kind of boring, but whatever gets you there, gets you there, right? I open the bottle, and I don't even bother pouring the rum into a glass. I begin to chug the rum like my life depended on it. And right now, in a sick way, it kind of does. My only chance of survival - finding Mona - isn't going to happen. I have an entire legion of assholes trying to violently murder me. My life that I thought I had is gone. Right now, all I can do is live in the moment, and this moment involves getting absolutely shitfaced until I can't see straight. Before I can even tell, almost half of the bottle is gone. Shit. I better slow down. Fuck... it's hitting me now... oh... oh shit._

"Oohh.. Shinnnttt... II... hooo...haa... ha..."

_whO evveennn drinks RUM and SODA? HA! Savaaan was a LOSER! Haa... howe log was hit since I drunk to drink lasTE? Yu now, If I SPIN arounnd REALLY FAST I probable could STOP SPINNIG and then go the DIRECION to find Mona Sax. Thet's probably my best LEED. I contin you to drink RUM! BECAUSE IT MAKES ME FEEL GUD! HA! I'm so funny... hey! You! Yea, you, silently ridiculeing mee... I AM IN CONTROL! My lif may seem fucked, but I assure yu, I GOT THIS. IMMA find MONA... and I'm a tell he I LIKE HER. I LIKE HEr... and her... uhh... her BODY. Ya... her ... uh... her... Mona... Mona I'm so sorry..._

_ Life has a strange way of sobering you up. I am drunk as fuck right now, but all I can think about is how Mona is probably dead because of me. She tried to save me. She tried to stop Lem with me. All of this... for what? Did she really have any reason for helping me? Did she... love me? My head hurts thinking about that possibility, and trust me, it wasn't because of the alcohol. I stagger like a toy soldier over to where I threw the document. I plump down onto the floor with a loud thud. Some of Savant's brains are spewed onto the document - I completely forgot about him. He's starting to smell._

"Monnnaaa... I'm sooo... I'm soo..."

_ I'm slurring too much to say what I want to. I want to apologize. I want to say how shitty I feel for everything that's happened to her. In this life, and the life I thought was true. But, before I can muster the words, I fall over, passing out like the drunken loser I've gotten so used to being._

_**I could use some sleep, I guess.**_


	6. Painful Hangover

"Oh... fuck... my head..."

_ The familiar feeling. The familiar sting. It's been a long while since I've had a hangover as painful as this one. Hell, I'm not even sure I've __**ever **__had a hangover like this one. How much of the bottle did I drink...? It's been a very long time since I've had any alcohol at all, so I really should have paced myself. But, I'm too idiotic to do that. I had to drink as much as I possibly could. I thought it might make me feel better. How wrong I was. I remember incoherently babbling about how I was going to "find" Mona, and how I "liked her body". Wow. I didn't think I could get any dumber, but that is just pathetic. At a time like this, all drunk me can think about is trivial, pointless shit like that. _

"Ow... time to wake up... I guess..."

_I talk to myself, in an attempt to find the motivation to move. But, when I open my eyes, I am greeted with yet another unfamiliar sight..._

"What... no... not this again..."

_I'm back in my room in Brazil. I look around. Yep. I'm back here in Brazil, same sun, same beach, same place. Instead of panicking like last time though, I slowly arise from my bed, and walk to the nearby window in my room. It is open already, and it gives me a beautiful view of the beach, and the vast water which leads to the distance. This is not real. It can't be._

"Max..."

_I turn around. I already know who's voice it is. It makes sense to finally see her this way._

"Mona."

_I look into her eyes. Just as I remember them. She wears the same clothing, carries the same demeanor. She is Mona Sax._

"Max... look at you. You look like shit, Max."

"I know that. It's been a long time since I've looked any better. Mona... this is a dream, isn't it?"

"Max... what do you honestly think?"

_Of course it's a dream. I just wanted to be sure. My sanity hasn't been in the best place, so any conformation at this point is appreciated._

"Mona... I'm so sorry. For everything. I got you killed, Mona. You died for me. Or... at least I thought you did. I'm not even sure anymore if you're alive or dead... I'm so -"

_She prevents me from saying anymore. She steps forward, placing her index finger on my lips. It feels real. It feels tangible._

"Max, don't say anymore. Just listen. Last night, you made a pretty big mistake. And now, what you do will decide whether you live or die. When you wake up, you have to be ready to survive."

"What are you talki -"

"Shut up, Max. Listen to me - this is important."

_ Her stern tone tells a story that I really didn't need to hear._

"Just, don't die Max. I've already seen you die once before... I won't let it happen again."

"Mona..."

_She was there when Lem shot me. Hell, she was there to see it happen twice. But the second time... for all she knows, I'm dead. If Mona is actually alive, she probably has no idea I'm still breathing._

"Okay, Mona. I'll survive for you."

_That sounded much better in my mind. When I speak the words, they seem contrived and pointless. Of course I'm going to try to survive. What the fuck am I talking about? It doesn't matter really, this is just my imagination after all..._

"Good. Now, time to wake up!"

_I open my eyes, and quickly realize just how right Mona was. I'm in a new place, a place I've never seen before. I'm sitting in a chair, my hands tied to the arm rests. I am also restrained by the legs and waist as well. This isn't good. Fan-fucking-tastic_. _I try to move, but I'm unable to._

"Damn..."

_Suddenly, I hear the sound of a door opening behind me. Footsteps... to my right, I see a man dressed in full body armor who is wearing a mask. He slowly walks around to my front, and pulls a chair over. He sits down with the chair facing backwards, resting his arms on the chair's back. Time to cue up the cliched "interrogation" scene I guess, right? Just like in all those stupid action movies, I guess._

"Max Payne..."

_His voice is disguised by a sound modification. Mother fucker doesn't even have the balls to show me who he is._

"Max Payne... do you know where you are?"

_What kind of fucking question is that?_

"Well let me see, umm... maybe... Disneyland?"

_A dumb question gets a dumb answer._

"Funny. No Max, you are in your own personal hell. You have killed many of my friends, and given my boss a very difficult time. You are going to suffer."

_Oh! MY GOD! I'm so fucking terrified! Yeah not fucking likely._

"Oh no! I'm so scared! What are you going to do, make me listen to you talk for another few minutes? _Then _I would _truly _suffer!"

_I'm greeted by a quick backhand slap. I guess I struck a nerve._

"Oh wow! That was painful! You know what they say, if it looks like a bitch and hits like a bitch, then it's probably -"

_Another smack for my troubles. Real tough guy, hitting me while I'm tied up like this. If I wasn't restrained, this bastard would already be dead._

"Someone wants to see you now, Max. Someone wants to say one last goodbye before you're put to death."

_The brute grabs my chair , and puts a black bag over my head._ _I guess he doesn't want me to see where I'm going. He starts dragging me to wherever the fuck it is we are heading to. Oh boy! I love surprises! I try to quietly deal with my hand restraints, but I'm not making any progress. After a few minutes, he drops my chair with a loud thud, and walks around back in front of me. He removes the bag from my head._

"We're here, Payne."

_I am greeted with the sight of at least a hundred Impalers_. _We are in a large hall area, and all these Impalers are here, looking at me with a certain degree of anger._

"Oh wow! A surprise party! You guys... you didn't have to do this!"

_Sarcasm seems to be the best way for me to deal with how pissed off I am right now. I'm dead serious when I say if I wasn't tied up right now, every single one of these bastards would be dead. As I look into the crowd, one Impaler emerges from the group. Like the others, he is wearing a mask over his face, disguising his appearance._

"Jesus, all of you must be so shy - hiding behind your masks! C'mon, don't be so scared, show me your beautiful faces... so I know who to shoot..."

_I mutter the last part. I'm not sure why, it's not like it's any secret._

"Very well, Max. I'll take off my mask for you."

_The one Impaler who emerged from the crowd begins to remove his mask. Before he even finishes, I know who it is._

"LEM YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I"M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!"

_There he stands. The man responsible for all of this bullshit. The man who I thought I killed . Vladimir Lem. The man who shot me. The man who thought he killed me. I shake and struggle in my restraints, trying with rage to break them in any way possible. If I get out of this chair, I am breaking his mother fucking neck_.

"It's nice to see you too, Max. It's been far too long..."

_His voice makes me want to vomit. His face makes me want to scream. This motherfucker is the definition of scum. He is going to die, one way or another._

"You know, Max, I owe you a lot. If you weren't such a fuck up, I probably never would have had the chance to be where I am today. If you weren't such a pathetic excuse for a cop, I may not have ever had the chance to take over the Inner Circle, and for that I am truly grateful!"

_All I need is one opening. One chance. I break this restraint, that bastard is dead. One chance..._

"But, alas, it is time for you to die. Max, do you have anything you'd like to say before you die? Oh, and trust me, there will be no more chances this time. This third bullet _will _be the charm. I guarantee you that."

_I'm not sure... do I have anything I'd like to say?_

"Lem... you know what? I have nothing to say to you other than that you're wrong. You will not kill me, because you can't. You've betrayed me. You've shot me. You've left me for dead. But every time, I've survived. And every time, I've found you again. This time is no different. I am going to survive, and I am going to kill you. It doesn't matter where you go. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't matter how many men you have fighting for you. You are a dead man, Lem. You are going to burn in hell for the crimes you've committed. And I personally am going to be the man who sends you there."

"Oh Max... you never were one to give up. One of my dearest friends... I do respect your attitude. But no matter, time to die!"

_Lem draws a pistol from his holster. He aims it at me, and I stare down the barrel. Maybe if I stare hard enough, I can intimidate the bullet into not firing. Hell, I've already been too much for his other two bullets, maybe this one will realize that and give up. I am ready for what is about to happen. I am -_

"Shit! It's the cops! Get down!"

_An Impaler screams, and as a result, Lem turns to see what is happening. Before I realize what is happening, I look up. There are large windows high above on the roof of the hall. Or, there was. Multiple armored police officers break through, and rappel down. The large door at the end of the hall breaks open to reveal even more officers. The next thing I know, gunfire erupts. An all out war between the cops and the Impalers has begun, and I have the pleasure of being caught right in the fucking middle of it - while being tied up. At this time, I have lost track of where Lem is. That bastard probably ran scared like the bitch he is when things started to go awry. I will find him... motherfucker. But right now, I need to get out of here, and fast. I rock the chair back and forth until I fall down so I am laying on my right side. Because of this, the arm on the chair breaks, freeing up a bit of movement. Right in front of me, I see the now lifeless body of the bastard who dragged me here. His head is leaking blood - it appears he took a bullet to the side of his head. Damn, I would have liked to be the one to kill him myself, but oh well. I undo the restraints on my arms and waist. This place is a fucking warzone. Some of the carnage has spilled out of this main hall, as many of the Impalers and officers have gone through the broken door in the chaos. As I undo the restraints on my legs, I look around. I need a weapon. A fallen officer is not too far from where I am. I begin to crawl, but I am met with a hard kick to my stomach._

"Ack! God damn..."

"PAYNE! You piece of shit... I'M GOING TO - "

_Kill you? Well not anymore, considering the fucker just took a bullet to the skull. He falls over, right onto me with a sickening thud and splat._

"Aww... fuck... Jesus Christ..."

_I push his lifeless body off of me, and continue to crawl to the officer. I take his sidearm, a Berreta, and I begin to look for a way out. I could make a break for the main door, but that would probably last for a few seconds before I get violently killed by either cops or Impalers. I turn around, and see a small door near where I was tied up. How the fuck did I miss that? No matter... it's time to fucking move. I stand up, and sprint to the door, hearing the sound of bullets fly past me as I run. I kick the door, smashing it into pieces, and run into the room. It leads down a small hallway. As I run, I hear the sound of a few people following me. When I get to the end of the hallway, there is a small room with a table and a few chairs. I kick the table over, and hide behind it. I peek over the edge of the table to see that it was three cops chasing me. They raise their weapons at me. _

"Freeze, punk! Don't move!"

_ That's not what I wanted to hear. But, before I have the chance to do anything, gunfire emerges once again, and the three officers fall to the ground - limp and dead. I hear a voice -_

"Hey! You okay, man? I'm coming, so don't shoot!"

_An Impaler who thinks I'm one of his buddies. Dumbass. He turns the corner, and is immediately met with a few well placed bullets to the chest. He doesn't live to realize how terrible his mistake was. I feel bad for the officers who were just killed. I know the risks of the job. Every day I went to work, I knew there was a chance that I wouldn't be able to go home. And unfortunately for these poor bastards, that chance just became a reality. I take some of their ammo from their belts, and decide that it might be a good idea to take some of their armor as well. That way, I'll have a decent disguise, and I'll only have to worry about Impalers trying to kill me. Just like old times. I look down the hall where I came from to see if anyone else is coming. No sight of anyone. So, I turn around, and continue down the hallway going to fuck knows where. As I continue, I notice something on the floor in the distance. As I approach, I see it is one of the masks that the Impalers were wearing. Could it be... Lem's mask? No way. No, there's no way I'd be that lucky. I throw the mask back onto the ground, and continue with a brisk pace. Questions begin running through my mind - Where am I? What is this place? Why are the cops here? Did they know what was going on here? Are they looking for me too? Was it pure coincidence that the cops made their move when I was about to be killed? There's far too many questions which I don't know the answers to, and it's pissing me off. I slow to a stop when I see that down the hall, the way branches off into two separate hallways. Right, or left? This choice could be the difference between life, or death. I try to catch my breath, when I am met with a familiar feeling. The cold metal on the back of my neck, underneath the helmet which I wear. The barrel of a gun._

"You're a long ways away from where you're supposed to be, cop."

_I hesitate. I already know who's voice it is. It makes sense to see her this way._

"You of all people should know that I'm not a cop anymore."

_She hesitates. No response for a brief moment when suddenly, with a degree of uncertainty, she responds._

"M... Max?"

"_**... Mona."**_


	7. Relief

_I can't decide whether or not it's a good idea to turn around. Every time I feel like something is actually happening, it just turns out to be a dream. The fight with Lem, Mona's death, the events in Brazil, my two strange dreams of being back in Brazil - I can't decide on whether or not I'm going crazy, or if I'm already there. But now, I'm faced with turning around - a simple action - to see whether or not the woman who has haunted my life and my dreams is actually there. I can't imagine what she's thinking of, considering what I am feeling right now - she's seeing a ghost for all she knows. I decide that it's in my best interest to turn around now, I can't just stand here with only my thoughts forever. I turn slowly, and I begin to remove my helmet as well. As soon as I am able to, I look into the eyes that I've longed to see stare back at me for quite some time. Immediately, I see that this is no dream. I see the shock in her eyes, the pure emotion. __**This **__**is**__** Mona. **__This is not a dream._

"M... Max... it's... really..."

_ I've never seen Mona like this before. Even when I held her in my arms as she drew her last breath, she had a certain mystique - a certain confidence. She said she was a "damsel in distress", but I know that was bullshit. She knows that was bullshit too, but regardless, she stands before me now as an emotional wreck. I see the tears flow down her face, and I cringe at the thought that she suffered like this at all for me, a hapless drunken loser. I figure I have to say something -_

"Mona, I'm so sorry... I - "

"Shut up, Max. Just... shut up..."

_She wraps her arms around me, and rests her head against my chest. I don't think there's anything I could say at this point. It wouldn't hold up - any words I could say now would just not do this moment justice. _

"Max... what the hell happened... I thought..."

_That I was dead? I know. But, needless to say, I'm not. Too stubborn for that to happen. I'm not sure how long exactly it is going to take for this moment to sink in, but we can't just stand here waiting for it to happen. We have to keep going - we have to find Lem._

"I thought I was dead too, Mona. Listen, it's a long story... but we have to keep going... I can tell you later -"

"Are you fucking serious, Max?"

_Oh no._

"Max, it's been over a year since we went to Lem's mansion. I thought that you _**died **_Max. I saw Lem shoot you. I thought you were gone... and now that you are back... you are going to make me wait?! What if we leave here, and you get shot again? What if I lose you again, Max? I can't go through that again Max... I can't let it happen... I just... I..."

_I... what in the name of fuck am I supposed to say? I want to continue after Lem, I want to find and punish that motherfucker. But... this is a priority that I can't procrastinate. Mona is right. It's been this long, we've both assumed that the other was dead, and now that we are together again, I want to rush off into fuck knows what? I'm a fucking idiot sometimes. No - all the time. How do I keep messing that up? Oh... wait... that's right. It's because I'm a fucking idiot._

"Okay, Mona... I'm sorry - it's just... the last couple of days have been pretty fucked up for me... and thinking straight is never something I've done well - especially under stress. I don't know how I survived, but I've been in the Memorial Hospital for the past year. I was in pretty bad shape... obviously. When I woke up, Bravura filled me in on the whole 'Impaler bullshit' situation, and then everything went from fucked up to _really _fucked up. Bravura got shot, the Impalers have been after me ever since, and... well... I figured if I could find you, everything would be okay."

"... You're a real dumbass, Max."

_That caught me off guard. A moment like this, and still Mona isn't one to hold back words._

"Well, this is true. Now, it's your turn, Mona. What the fuck is going on here?"

_This whole time we still hadn't separated from each other's arms. Finally, Mona takes a step away to collect herself, to find her composure. I admit, I was disappointed when we separated. Somehow, I felt like everything was going to be okay when I held her. Oh god... that sounds so sappy... like a shitty romance movie. The thought would normally take at least three shots of tequila in order to be forgotten about, but for some reason, I'm okay with it now. Maybe everything will actually be okay now that she's here..._

"I'll give you the short version, Max. I've been on the run ever since Lem took charge of the Inner Circle. I've been waiting for the right chance to try to take him down, but it hasn't been easy. He's had a solid grip on everything that happens in the city - specifically, the police. But, I had a few connections on the inside from past work I've had, and somehow I managed to find some of the police who still have a conscience. We coordinated this attack here - this is one of the main Impaler buildings that we know of. The plan was to try to draw Lem out into the open by attacking all of the compounds we could - forcing him to keep on the move. We had no idea he would be here - and I especially had no idea that you'd be here, either. It's pretty much a freak coincidence that you ended up here at this time... but Max... you certainly have a history of ending up with freak luck and ridiculous coincidence, so I guess it's not that far fetched, right?"

_No, it certainly isn't. _

"So what do we do now, Mona?"

"Max, we need to -"

_Before she can finish, the sound of gunfire breaks the peace once again. A few Impalers have managed to find us, and are now opening fire on us from the end of the hallway. These bastards picked a bad time to fight. Right now, my mind has never been clearer._ _My emotions are in a good place, thanks to finding the most important person in the world to me right now. These fuckers don't have a chance. Mona and I turn to face the Impalers who are approaching, and then... surgical precision. Mona draws her two pistols, and I aim with mine. A chorus of gunfire begins as we open fire on the Impaler scum. They drop like flies. It feels like we've never been apart, the way we fight together. It's a relief having the one person I can trust watching out for me, it eases my nerves in a way not much (other than alcohol) can. By the time we stop shooting, I've counted twenty dead Impalers. They didn't know what they were getting into, really. _

"You've still got it, Max."

"That's implying I ever had it to begin with."

"Funny."

_With that lame joke, we begin to continue down the hallway that leads to the right. I follow Mona, she seems to know where exactly we are going, so I trust her decisions as we weave down halls and navigate down corridors. This place is surprisingly large - I can't believe how big it is, really. After what seems like an eternity of running to fuck knows where, we end up in a large room with large computer mainframes and a bunch of electronics. A typical database storage room, by the looks. _

"Max, I'm going to hack into one of these computers. I'm going to try to find out where Lem could be going next. By now, he's probably on his way to the next safehouse he has available. Watch my back."

_Mona begins to type furiously as she hacks the computer. What in the name of fuck... a bunch of random symbols and numbers pop up on the screen... and... okay, I've never been good with computers or any type of machinery really, so this all is just confusing as shit. The way I see it, everything should just be point and click. Or, point and shoot. It seems that no one is coming, and I'm staring to fear that it's getting too quiet. Hurry up Mona..._

"Oh... shit... Max..."

_I don't like how that sounds. I turn around, and I see a picture on the screen. It's a mini version of Lem, laughing. The text reads 'Nice try, but that access is DENIED! Self destruct instead, sure! THIRTY SECONDS!' Shit. Of course he was prepared for this, but really? A self destruct? That's the most fucking cliched bullshit ever. I think Lem has watched a few too many bad action movies. Regardless, Mona and I have got to get the fuck out of here. We turn and run full sprint out of the room, navigating back a few corridors until we get to a small exit door. We kick the door down, and we run to the outside. It looks like this place is in the middle of nowhere because all I see is trees and woods. Where the fuck are we exactly, again? On that thought, we are greeted with a loud bang - no doubt the explosion from the database room. It's almost lost in the sound of gunfire that still rages from the main hall where I once was. I guess the cops and Impalers are still fighting. I turn and look at Mona as I try to catch my breath._

"Well... that could have went better."

"I guess. Max, I think I was able to find something useful though. I think I know where Lem is going after all."

_Seriously? Jesus... how the fuck did she manage to pull that off? It's certainly a huge relief, though. Saves us a lot of bullshit._

"Great... what did you find?"

"Max... do you remember Annie Finn?"

_I don't like where this is going already._

"Yeah... she was a gun dealer. She died when I first met the Cleaner bastards."

"Well, according to this document here... it seems that Lem's next destination is the warehouse that used to be hers."

_I take a quick look at the document, hoping that it was a lie. I never wanted to go back to that place, like how I never wanted to go back to the funhouse, or like how I never wanted to come back to Memorial Hospital, or this damn city itself really. But everything seemed to be in order - it was a record of a conversation between some Impalers and Lem. And, of course, he says that fucking warehouse is the next place to hide out in case of emergency. _

"Well, I guess it's time for yet another trip down memory lane, right? Annie Finn's warehouse, huh. Fantastic."

_**I really am not looking forward to this. Not in the fucking least.**_


	8. Revelation

_I'm still waiting for a "revelation" moment. I'm still waiting to find out that this is all just as much of a lie as every other reality I've ever had. Fuck - here I am, on my way to the warehouse that fucking __**Annie Finn **__- the weapons dealer from my past - owned. The place where I met the Cleaners for the first time - the bastards who are now the Impalers. After the bullshit that happened at the Impaler safehouse where I was taken, Mona and I left the scene. Mona figured the police had the situation under control, but I honestly didn't give a shit either way. I wanted to continue after Lem as soon as I could. Mona had a vehicle nearby, so for the past while, she and I have been on our way back into the city. Apparently, the safehouse was built in the middle of the New York Forest Preserve - real nice of Lem to blatantly disregard the law on that one. I guess it's not like he has to obey it or anything though. I'm not exactly sure how far we are from the warehouse... but I don't like sitting here doing nothing. It makes me think... something I really should never do. Mona... when she said she didn't want to lose me again... what was she going on about? She said she didn't want to lose me again, and she hesitated to continue. What was she going to say? I need to stop thinking about it. Maybe I should get some rest... I certainly could use it. The question is though... will I even be able to sleep? I doubt it..._

Sleep comes easier than I expected it to. But, something once again isn't right. I already know that when I open my eyes, I'm going to be back in Brazil again. Why? I thought I was over these stupid dreams now that Mona is with me. I thought I was finally going to get my shit together...

"_Why... why does this keep happening to me?"_

"_Hey man! C'mon, you can't be __**that **__unhappy to see me man! Jesus!"_

Passos. What the hell is _he _doing here?

"_What do you want, Passos?"_

"_Hey, nice to see you too, Payne. How have you been?"_

Is he even fucking listening to me?

"_Oh, I've just been so fucking great. Everything has been fan-fucking-tastic!"_

"_Oh. Point taken, Max. Jesus man, calm down. What's got you so pissed off, man?"_

Really. Now? I shouldn't have fallen asleep. Like I really need to listen to this now...

"_Passos, let's just say that I'm -" _

"_Having trouble with reality?"_

What?

"_Uhh... what?"_

"_Oh... it's just... Max... don't you think there might be a reason everything is so fucked up, man?"_

Okay, now shit is starting to get even more screwed up. I don't even know anymore...

"_Where are you going with this, Passos?"_

"_Well... oh never mind man. I'm sure you will figure it out sooner or later. The answer will be right in front of you once you get to the warehouse, man."_

What the fuck? I'm confused, _man. _Passos, you have accomplished something I didn't think was possible. You've confused me even more than I already was.

"_Alright, Max, I'll leave you with this, man. Let's just say that when Lem shot you again, the doctors had to do something pretty crazy to save you. I'll leave it at that, man. You have to find the rest out yourself."_

You know what? I've got a shit load of more questions to ask, but I don't even care anymore. These dreams are too messed up. I'm not even going to bother. If Passos says I'm going to find my answers, then I'm going to find my answers. Jesus Christ.

"We're here, Max. Time to wake up."

_Mona's voice breaks my daze. Back to reality, I guess. Or, so I think. I look around, and, well, here we are. I remember that night when I first was here - a report of shots fired. I met the Cleaners here, and this also was the first time I saw Mona again. I thought she died two years before, but I was proven wrong. I remember being so confused - I was so happy to see here. At that point though, I didn't quite understand why. So here we are again. I was expecting to see at least a few Impalers here, but the place seems deserted. Mona and I get out of the car, drawing our weapons and remaining as cautious as possible. Something's not right, as usual._

"I think we should take the back entrance, Max. Let's go."

_Of course we should. Just like old times. Deja vu. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. We turn right, and approach the fence. We pass through the open gate, navigating down the back alley, and turning left to see the back doorway. Just like when I first came here. We go up the stairs, and try the door. Surprisingly, it's open. That's different..._

"What do you make of this, Mona? The door's open."

"Well, it was open last time, wasn't it?

_She's got a point. I open the door, and we walk in. Familiar shelves with boxes, and other assorted things - just like last time once again. Jesus, I'd swear that nothing has changed since then. We continue into the warehouse - taking the path that I once took when I held the first Cleaner I ever met at gunpoint. We approach the large door that the Cleaner opened for me. I remember the way he said "After you, detective." I also remember the way his brains spewed onto the wall. I knew he was leading me into a trap, I wasn't born yesterday. So I took a chance and I was right. His friends opened fire on me, but they didn't have a chance. This time, though, things are different. Mona opens the door, and turns to me -_

"After you, Max."

_This time, I go in first. I am greeted with a strange sight. One single box on the floor. An envelope rests on the top of the box. Mona and I approach the box, and we look at each other._

"What do you think, Max?"

_I think I'm about to do something really stupid. I reach down and open the envelope. Inside, I read what has been written. It simply says : "Open the box, Max. I got you a present!" ...Great. Lem playing more games. You know what? Fine. I'll open the damn box. See if I give a fuck. I'll guarantee that I don't. I kneel down, and begin to open the box._

"Max... are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course I'm not. I don't think I ever have been."

_I open the box, and I - wha... no... it can't be. No... not this. No... please don't let this be true. The box... it's... filled with... __**Valkyr.**__ No... not this again..._

"Max... what's wrong? Max... oh no..."

_This drug is what is responsible for every problem I've ever had in my life. I lost my wife and daughter to junkies who were high on this drug. My life has been in a downward spiral ever since. There's another note. I decide to read it, for some reason. It says : "Max... the police may have protected you from me when you were in the hospital, and I'll admit, I had no idea it was you there. I thought you were dead. But I got suspicious when hospital officials approached me, looking for something. A patient in critical condition needed an experimental cure in order to survive. I obliged for the money, of course, but for a long time, I was curious about who exactly it was that needed the cure. Turns out, of course, it was a certain somebody named 'Max Payne'. Well... I was quite surprised. I of course realized that I needed to kill you for good, but I also couldn't believe the irony of the situation. To have your life ruined by something, only to have it turn around and save you. And, no, Max, this isn't a hallucination, which I'm sure you've been having many of. Just to clarify, in case you are too stupid to follow - your life was saved by constant dosages of Valkyr. A drug which I've experimented with that now acts as a powerful steroid in addition to its... how do you say... 'side effects'. So Max... if you are physically or mentally able, you can come and find me where your family rests. I figured it would be poetic for you to be put to your final rest there as well. Oh, and by the way, I left this Valkyr here - you know - in case you need another fix!"_

"He's at the cemetery, Mona..."

_I guess everything makes sense for once. The Valkyr is a powerful steroid, which certainly aided in my recovery. But, it also resulted in my current mental state - my hallucinations. The whole time I spent ever since that day when I was shot... it was all just an elaborate hallucination, caused by the sheer amount of valkyr in my system. Because of the volume of Valkyr I had, my mind was able to create all of the bullshit which I thought was true. It makes sense. Fuck... the dreams I've been having are just another side effect - maybe one that I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life. And hell... through all of this confusion... there's no way I can be sure that any of __**this **__is true. This all could be another hallucination. Jesus Christ..._

"Max... you alright?"

"Yeah... I'll be alright."

"What do you think we should do, Max?"

"The only thing we know how, Mona. **It's time to go to the cemetery and kill that mother fucker.**"


End file.
